Weekend

“I have an idea,” my husband said to me last night. “Tomorrow –”

I braced myself. He was talking about today, Saturday, the day I love the most. The day I look forward to all week, and the day for which I have unattainably high expectations. It’s the same day my hopes often times get dashed, so I waited for the next few words to hear what he had to say.

“– let’s load up our bikes, drive to the New Jersey/Pennsylvania border and go for a long bike ride with the kids.”

At this point the angels began to sing, the trumpets blared and the skies turned clear and bright.

As far back as I can remember I have lived for the weekend. And, unless I had a fun social engagement scheduled, each Saturday morning I found myself sorely disappointed. I have somehow convinced myself that Saturday and Sunday were made for exploring, sharing ideas, socializing, enjoying the outdoors, and being entertained. Yet I happen to be one of very few individuals who feel this way. The worst part is that my life partner is not on my side of the fence, either.

If my dear husband had his way, we would sit inside (or outside on the lawn or deck, if it’s a nice day) and read the New York Times, finish a crossword and enjoy a family dinner together. If we happen to take a bike ride or go hiking, that would be okay, but he really doesn’t need those activities to enjoy his time off.

I, on the other hand, would feel complete if we took a morning drive to a fun spot, went on a long bike ride, explored a new country and tasted a new cuisine all in one day.

Is this too much to ask?

The problem is my husband and I lead very different lives during the week. He has a brutal commute. He walks a mile to the train station (his choice to walk, not mine), sits for an hour on a train into the city and walks some more to get to his office in Lower Manhattan. I, on the other hand, work in our house, tend to the children, cook meals, clean, do the five million other housebound duties and dream of traveling far, far away.

Since my husband is out of the house 10 times more than he is in the house, naturally he wants to be home on the weekends. And since I am home, I want to go away. It’s a Solomon’s baby type of dilemma. Who should win?

Well, both of us, if you ask me. I can hang out as a family some of the time, but I need to get out and do things as well. I finally made myself clear one day after several weekends at home had passed. “If I don’t get out of this house I’m going to go insane,” I said to my mate.

He blinked a few times and said, “Um, okay.”

“And I can’t always be the one coming up with a plan,” I said, pushing the limit further.

“Okay,” he said again.

Why does he have to be so damn agreeable?

I thought for sure he was just being passive aggressive (even though he’s not really that kind of person). I thought we’d never leave these four walls. Which is why, when he mentioned our little trip last night, I became giddy. And he got lucky. (Yes, I am that easy.)

Happy weekend to all!

Photo by Henk L, courtesy of stock.xchng